DEVIL?

Prologue

Dinner was quiet as usual; the only sound was that of silverware scraping against porcelain. No one uttered a word, no one dared to. Father preferred it that way. He didn't like loud noises; in truth, he didn't like much of anything. It was hard to imagine him capable of liking anything, or of showing love at all. He was The Devil, after all. So perhaps it was only natural.

His appearance mirrored his wretched soul perfectly. His body was thin and lanky, his hair long and unkempt, his skin cracked and pale. But it was his eyes that unsettled most; they were cold and hollow, as if all life had been drained from them long ago.

His head snapped toward Ilias, those cold eyes stabbing into him like daggers.

"What are you looking at?" His voice felt like sandpaper against the boy's ears.

"N-nothing, Father..." Ilias stammered, a chill crawling down his spine.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, it was Mother.

"Why don't you go and get ready for bed, dear?" she said, her voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey. "Go now. I'll be there shortly to brush your hair."

"Okay, Mom." Ilias stood from his chair, taking a piece of bread from his plate as he left the dining room. He hadn't made it two steps before the yelling began. The long walk to the bathroom suddenly became a short run. He covered his ears, not wanting to hear what they were fighting about, not again. Nearly colliding with the bathroom door, he stopped just in time and shut it behind him with a click.

He turned on the sink and splashed cold water onto his face, trying to wash away the tension that clung to him. After hurrying through his nightly routine, he stepped back into the hall.

"Jack! Jack, where are you?" Ilias called out, searching for his friend.

"Yes, young master?" came the reply. Jack stood at the end of the hall, dressed like a butler though he was more slave than servant. He had lost his soul to Ilias's father a long time ago.

"I brought you this bread!" Ilias said, holding out the piece he'd taken.

Jack bowed deeply in gratitude. "Thank you, young master."

He devoured the bread eagerly. Father rarely fed him, so Ilias had taken to sneaking him food whenever he could.

"I should go. My mother is expecting me," Ilias said, giving a small wave as he turned away. Jack returned the gesture with another bow.

The walk to his room was short. His pajamas were already laid out neatly on the bed. After changing, he sat down, waiting. A few minutes later, a soft knock echoed from the door. Before he could answer, his mother stepped inside.

"What's the point of knocking if you're just going to come in before I can respond?" he teased, chuckling softly.

"I'm not asking for permission," she said with a laugh. "I'm warning you that I'm coming in." She pinched his cheek playfully. "Now then, let me brush your hair so you can go to bed."

She picked up the brush from his desk. The soft bristles glided through his hair a soothing contrast to the tension that had filled the dining room moments ago. She hummed a familiar tune, one that always brought Ilias a sense of calm in his otherwise chaotic world. As her gentle hands worked through the tangles, he closed his eyes and let himself drift into a rare moment of peace.

"Mom?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, dear?" she replied, her tone as comforting as ever.

"Why do you stay with him?"

Her hands paused for only a moment before continuing their rhythmic strokes.

"Because of you," she said softly. "To protect you. To keep you safe."

The soft strokes soothed his thoughts as his eyes grew heavy. His mother's humming faded into silence as sleep claimed him.

He wished he had appreciated it more

for it was the last time he ever saw her.